Election night plans… soirée or flee?

Clinton dips in the Lake

You can’t teach the Big Dog new tricks… Bill Clinton cemented his reputation as the Harris campaign’s least helpful surrogate this week in an appearance where he branded Kari Lake, the Republican candidate for US Senate in Arizona, “someone who is physically attractive.”

“Bill Clinton has officially turned into every other married man over the age of sixty-five in Scottsdale — embarrassing themselves by publicly hitting on women thirty-three years their junior,” a Lake staffer told Cockburn. Lake is only two years older than Monica Lewinsky.

The former president’s remarks follow his comment that Laken Riley, a young woman murdered by an illegal immigrant in Georgia, wouldn’t have been killed if people entering this country were “properly vetted.”

Lake trails her Democratic opponent Congressman Ruben Gallego by eight points in polling, even though former president Trump has a narrow lead over Vice President Kamala Harris in the same state. Gallego is a former US Marine — who, unlike other Democratic Senate candidates, can actually fire a gun safely — and has weathered a number of negative stories regarding his decision to divorce his first wife while she was heavily pregnant.

Cockburn is pleased to hear that Lake may have a future as a Clinton flame once her Senate campaign grinds to a halt. After seeking an invite, he learned that she does not have an election night “victory party” on the schedule, so assured is she of her looming defeat. Who should we feel more sorry for: her, or Hillary…

Spotted: NPR reporter reads book on ‘toxic masculinity’ at Trump event

Remember those weird college kids who would bring books to football games? Such anti-social behavior persists into full adulthood, Cockburn can confirm. An NPR reporter was spotted up against the ropes of a recent Trump presser in North Carolina reading a worn-in copy of Man Enough, a book from director Justin Baldoni about “undefining traditional roles and traits of masculinity.” It was clearly not the reporter’s first time reading the book; the pages were replete with highlighter and margin notes. Cockburn wonders if she was merely doing research for her outlet’s plethora of articles about Trump’s “weaponization” of manhood — or if this was reading for personal enjoyment.

Election night plans: soirée or flee?

Will Election Day cause America to erupt in another spasm of violence? The nation’s capital is bracing itself for the possibility. “The Election Is Looming — and These Washingtonians Are Running Scared,” declares a Politico piece, which reports how “all kinds of people are scouting conveniently timed vacations.” Businesses are set to board up on Connecticut Avenue and elsewhere downtown. Cockburn knows of at least one news organization that will be closing its office and working remotely on November 5 and 6. Overseas, America’s soft-handed European allies are anticipating the worst (when don’t they?): the Times of London commissioned a poll showing that a quarter of Americans fear civil war after the election. 

Not everyone in the city is clutching pearls, however. Dirty Water, a sports bar on H Street NE that is under new management, has opted to walk headfirst into the political controversy. “After watching a pizza shop known for feeding the homeless be accused of racism for a hilarious dessert ad and a U St bar attacked for the audacity of including both political parties in their logo, we think it’s probably best to pass on the edgy election night graphics we had planned,” they write in an Instagram post. 

“That being said, we’re rooting for Trump and we plan on spraying champagne when we win. If that’s not your vibe, we kindly suggest you take in election night somewhere less fun.”

Some patrons are less than pleased with the bar’s decision to get off the fence, “Lmao no serious Boston fan should ever step foot in this moldy ass place,” reads one comment. Others are more enthused: “Dirty water isn’t for dirty libs. Let’s goooo”

Do you have plans for election night? Email cockburn@thespectator.com to invite Cockburn to your party.

An afternoon at Butterworth’s

Cockburn has a toothache owing to a decade of missed dental appointments. Or perhaps it is the molar the dentist accidentally cracked while filling the neighboring tooth on Monday. Cockburn is not in Butterworth’s Club to assign blame, but to deliver a restaurant review.

Fair play requires that man whose mouth is on fire is in no place to judge food. Fortunately, Butterworth’s Club is a café and bar in addition to restaurant. Cockburn’s signature cocktail is “alcohol and glass,” and Butterworth’s has both. The coffee is caffeinated.

It is always best to review a restaurant blind, but when Cockburn entered he was immediately recognized by the investors seated on high-back maroon chairs. The aesthetic is a hodgepodge of older things — nineteenth-century wallpaper, sketches of hares, reclaimed hymn boards with Polaroids of staffers. The bathroom is wood-paneled, the carpet Persian, the high-top seating a variety of upholstery purposely weathered. At the center of the bar is a bust of Alexdrine D’Etioles, daughter of a pre-revolution mistress to the king of France. The atmosphere is conservative in that every item is aged, though there is no unifying theme to give order to the décor. It is rather fitting.

Cockburn had never eaten crêpes before. He ate crêpes. Having discovered crêpes are delicious, Cockburn began to question whether other things he hates are good. The bartender said his speciality was whiskey sour; the chef said his speciality was espresso martini with Bolivian chocolate; the man working the door insisted on a Bloody Mary involving Vegemite and pickles. Every item listed in this paragraph is not just disgusting but a cash grab. Fair play requires that Cockburn drink them all.

There is no easy way to say this, but Cockburn enjoyed every one of these abominations that have become staples of brunch for the over-credentialed airheads that rule our Capitol and thus our lives. Even the pickle garnish. Butterworth’s Club is located just down the street from the Capitol on Pennsylvania Avenue, nestled between a weed dispensary and liquor store.